


Better than that

by Periazhad



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Brother Acquisition, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breastfeeding, Broken Bones, Electrocution, Enemies to Friends, Enemy to Caretaker, Exhaustion, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Male Lactation, No beta we die like mne, Omega Jason Todd, Pack Bonding, Pup Tim Drake, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Torture, Whump, enemies to caretakers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:47:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Periazhad/pseuds/Periazhad
Summary: Jason Todd wants to revel in Robin's pain, make him hurt, make him scream.But when he peels off Tim's scent blocker, he's shocked at his reaction to the scent of a hurting pup.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 103
Kudos: 531
Collections: Gen Batfam ABO, Red Hood vs Red Robin





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [Ellegrine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellegrine/pseuds/Ellegrine). Log in to view. 



> Ise said the ending was fine, so blame her.

It’s been a long, long day for Tim. Beast Boy got stuck in a shift after a mission, as a _bird_. It was a residual toxin effect, but that didn’t stop him from flapping wildly around the tower. Tim set Wonder Girl to keep an eye on him and try to catch him, and threw himself into solving the toxin.

Raven, usually unwilling to show or admit her feelings, got so panicked she almost lost control of her powers. Cyborg took over the toxin equations and Tim tried to lead Raven through meditative exercises, broken by panicked squacks, shattering glass, and an increasingly exasperated Cassie shouting.

For a moment, Tim thought he’d be leading two superpowered heroes through meditation exercises. But Vic got the antidote, Cassie used her lasso to bring Gar down, and Raven stalked off as soon as Gar was his normal self.

Vic rapidly excused himself, Cassie just rolled her eyes on her way to her room, and Gar sent Tim a pleading look before chasing after Raven. 

Tim sighs. He still has to fill out their mission report before he can sleep. He’s exhausted, fatigue weighing him down, caffeine not helping anymore.

He is ten minutes into his report when he realizes he doesn’t know how Cyborg accessed the mainframe while he and Super Girl kept the guards busy. Tim tries to raise him on the comms.

Silence.

Even if he were sleeping, the pages are designed to wake them up. Tim pages him again, and says, “Cyborg, I need the report of your mainframe infiltration.” More silence.

Tim feels a frisson of alarm run through him, and shoves it down. He’s in the Tower, no alarms have been tripped. It’s just fatigue making him paranoid.

He pages Wonder Girl. Cassie won’t be sleeping, not right after a mission, especially after having to bring Gar down. She’s always a bit wired.

No response.

Maybe she’s in the shower. He didn’t want to bother Raven, exhausted and embarrassed from her meltdown, but now he has to know. He pages her.

Silence.

Beast Boy should be sleeping it off, if he’s not with Raven, but he’s woken up to the pages before. All of them have. That’s why they’re so loud.

Silence.

Tim realizes he needs to contact Batman or the Watchtower, and feels a jolt real fear when the signal won’t go out. 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says out loud. “Something’s wrong with communications, but the team is fine. I’ll just go check on them.” He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves.

When he opens the door, the hall is dark. The lights are never off in the Tower. The backup generator hasn’t even kicked on. If there was a power outage, all the power would have gone out, including the command room. He glances back, as though the lights in there might suddenly have gone off, but they’re still streaming brightly into the dark hall.

He’s grateful he’s still in costume, still armored, still wearing scent blockers, and pulls out his bo staff. He feels more centered with it in his hands, buoyed by the surge of adrenaline that always comes from anticipating a fight.

Wonder Girl is his best bet if someone has infiltrated the Tower. Enhanced abilities are always useful, and her room is closest.

He snaps a glow stick, sliding it almost completely into an outside hip pocket. He doesn’t need much light to see, and too much light will attract attention, but he’s not stupid enough to go with no light. He’s not going to be ambushed in the dark. If they’ve been blinded, the enemy is going to be prepared with night-vision goggles. 

At Wonder Girl’s room he taps in the override code on her door, then stands to the side as it opens. No light, no sound, no movement. He waits for a few minutes, trying to outwait a possible attacker while balancing his need to check on Cassie.

When he finally sneaks a glance, there’s a lump on her bed that might be a body, but no sign of anything else. He creeps in quietly, and sees that it is Cassie on the bed. She’s still, unmoving, and his breath freezes for a moment. Then she sighs, shifting, and Tim can breathe again.

He creeps up to her bed, and shakes her shoulder. He gently taps her face, then harder. He whispers, “I think chocolate chip muffins are better than cookies,” but she doesn’t indignantly sit up.

A coil of something like terror uncurls in his stomach. Who or what could incapacitate Wonder Girl? And why? Cyborg’s room is just a bit further on, but he’s in the same condition.

There’s been no sign of the mysterious enemy. Did they look for Tim in his room and assume he’d left already? But no, the light in the Command Center was left on, and it seems to be the only light that was left.

As he moves deeper into the Tower, his skin crawls, like someone is watching him. He can’t see or hear anyone, and no one attacks him. Beast Boy and Raven are also out, and Tim is not surprised to find them in the same room.

He can’t leave the Tower while his teammates are helpless, but he hasn’t found a single enemy and his limbs are already trembling from exhaustion. He’s going to make a mistake. 

There’s a bat communicator in his room. He doesn’t wear it on Titan missions, but keeps it on hand. It’s not connected to any part of the Tower, and Barbara made sure it could send an emergency signal, despite the distance.

The fatigue is wearing him down; he should have thought of his comm first. He opens his door, and freezes when dim lighting spills out in the hallway. None of the other rooms had lighting. Is someone waiting in there for him? He stops breathing, listening, but doesn’t hear anything.

He can’t stay in the hallway forever, his energy depleting faster and faster. His best bet is to rush in there, hold off whoever or whatever might be there long enough to get to the communicator and push the button. Once he’s called for help, well, he won’t give up, but he doesn’t have any illusions about winning in his current state, against someone who’s taken down the rest of the team and the Tower itself.

He rushes into the room, stopping dead when he sees Red Hood sitting on his bed. The bat communicator is sitting in his open hand, the white eyes of the helmet looking at him. His mouth dries up at his last plan, his only plan, dissolving in front of him. Hood closes his hand, and opens it to show him the shattered pieces of the communicator.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Robin.”

—

Deep down, Tim knew he wasn’t going to win, and it was going to be messy. When he saw Hood crush the communicator, he spun and ran, slamming the door close button on his way out. He wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.

Leaving the Tower wasn’t an option. Hood is a Gotham villain; he’s here for Robin, and when he gets what he wants he’ll leave the Team alone. Hopefully. If Tim disappeared, Hood was likely to take it out on them.

His best bet was to keep trying to think of a way to raise an alarm, while keeping Hood occupied long enough for help to arrive. Surely one of the other Justice League facilities would notice they were dark and send someone? 

He didn't want to play cat and mouse throughout the Tower; Hood had superior equipment. He sprinted back to the Command Center. If he locked himself in there, the most obvious place, Hood would stay focused on him. And until Hood broke in, Tim would try any idea that popped into his head to raise communication.

He gives himself a moment to breathe when the Command Room door slides closed behind him and he puts the room in lockdown. Hood may have accessed the basic codes, but the lockdown codes simply aren’t in the system until lockdown is activated. Hood’s not going to have this override code and, while he will probably find a way, Tim has some time. There’s still power here, but Hood must have activated a signal blocker. He just needs to find a way to boost the signal, override the blocker, and get an SOS to the JLA.

A chill runs down his back when he hears the door behind him whisper open. He turns, numbly, to see Hood silhouetted in the doorway.

Hood says something, but Tim can’t hear it through his surprise. He automatically grabs his bo staff and readies himself, but the fatigue and the shock make him feel like he’s moving through molasses.

Tim jolts into full awareness when Hood pulls a gun and fires it at the main console. The gunshot, the sparks flying, flood his system with adrenaline. 

Hood says, “Are you listening now, Robin?”

“Yes.” Tim notes his hands are shaking. Adrenaline or fatigue. How long has it been since he’s slept? More than a day, less than a week.

“Good. Now, show me what makes you worthy to be Robin.” Hood beckons him on, making his meaning inescapable. 

Tim circles closer, drawing Hood out with feints, seeing how he moves. He’s fast, and Tim is uneasy about the guns. It turns out, though, he should have worried about all the knives. When he closes with Hood, Hood blocks the staff with one hand and uses the knife he pulled to stab Tim in the thigh.

Tim gasps in pain, and falls back.

  
  
“Quit playing around.” Hood’s voice is venomous even through the modulator.

“I’m not playing,” Tim shoots back, voice tight with pain, because he’s not _playing._ He is trying to buy time for anyone to realize something is wrong and show up. His adrenaline is fading, and he closes with Hood again.

Hood wrenches the staff from his hands, and Tim stumbles back. When Hood slams the staff into his side, Tim cries out and falls to his knees. Hood throws the staff to the side and grabs Tim by his collar, lifting him up. Breathless from the blow, he weakly kicks out at Hood, who absorbs the impact without a sign. He slams Tim up against the wall, and Tim looks into the white eyes on the helmet.

“What do you want?” Tim gasps, still twisting weakly.

“I wanted to know if you were any good.” 

He lets go of Tim, but drives a fist into his stomach. Tim doubles over, gasping. Hood lifts his head by the hair and slams another fist into his cheekbone. Tim has a second to spare half a thought to be grateful it didn’t shatter, before Hood punches him again. Tim coughs weakly, spitting out blood.

  
“But I have my answer.”

He lets go of Tim, and Tim knows his only hope is to get away. He darts past Hood, heading for the doorway. He can’t face Hood, but he can lead him on a chase through the Tower, maybe even out of the Tower.

Or he could, if Hood isn’t impossibly fast. But Hood _is_ impossibly fast, grabbing his arm too tight for Tim to twist away. Tim tries to sweep Hood’s legs out, or just throw him off balance enough for Tim to escape, but Hood sees it coming and stomps Tim’s ankle to the floor. The sickening snap draws a cry from Tim, and he crumples. Only Hood’s hold on his arm keeps him upright.

When Hood lets go, Tim falls on the ground. Before he even lands, Hood kicks him in the ribs, and Tim _screams._ That’s a broken rib or three to match the cracked ribs from his staff on the other side. Hood kicks him again and again, while Tim curls up into a ball, trying to protect himself. The second Hood stops, he scrambles backwards. His hand closes on his staff, and he grabs it, vaulting back upright.

Hood just watches him, and Tim balances on one foot. He can’t run with one foot, which was probably Hood’s goal. His entire body is sore from the beating.

“Well,” Tim says, falsely cheerful, suppressing panic, breathing through the pain, “It seems like you’re the better fighter. Did you want me to sign something, or take a picture to remember this moment? Perhaps I can offer you a commemorative T-shirt that says ‘I defeated Robin’? I know a guy who does them for cheap.”

Hood is still watching him, and Tim is terrified. If Hood wanted him dead, he’d be dead already. Hood could have killed everyone in the Tower, but he hasn’t. It’s as though this is personal, but Tim has never run into Hood in Gotham. Robin hasn’t even been active in Gotham recently. 

It doesn’t make sense he’d warrant all this effort. Tim doesn’t know why he’s been targeted, what testing him does for The Red Hood, doesn’t know what to do. He’s trembling harder, and has to lean against the wall to support himself. Unless.

“Did someone put a bounty on my head?” He tried to keep his flippant tone, but even he can hear the wobble. 

In silent answer, Hood reaches up and pulls off his helmet. He peels off the domino under the helmet. 

“Look familiar, replacement?”

Bright green eyes, a shock of white hair, and a face that looks familiar. A face he’s seen at galas, under dominos, through the camera lens.

“Jason,” he breathes out, a sense of wonder overcoming his fear and pain. “You’re alive.”

“Oh, so you know who I am?” Without the modulator, the rage and malice are impossible to escape. Tim’s heart rate picks back up, looking into impossibly vivid, green eyes. 

A whisper in the back of his mind, _lazarus_. Tim swallows; the Lazarus pit brings you back from the dead, but you pay the price with rage and insanity. In this case, Tim thinks, Jason isn’t the one paying the price.

“You took my name.” Hood stalks towards Tim, eyes flaring bright with every word. “You took my place.” Another step. Tim presses his back against the wall, transfixed by those eyes, fear stealing his voice, rising dread keeping him from moving. “You took my _family_.” A final step; Hood is right in front of them. “And you’re going to pay for that.” 

“Jas—” Before Tim can finish, Jason grabs him by the throat with one hand and squeezes, cutting him off. Tim’s hindbrain kicks in, and he swings the staff at Jason. Jason easily disarms him and Tim grabs at Jason’s hand, trying to pry the fingers off his neck. He’s choking, spots dancing in his vision, and he tries to claw at Jason’s face. Something, anything.

Jason loosens his hand a fraction and Tim desperately sucks air in. It’s not enough, but it’s better than nothing. He looks into Jason’s eyes, and sees no mercy there. Jason is angry, rightfully so, but if Tim had _known_ Jason was alive, he’d have never been Robin. He’d have done anything to bring Jason home. He still wants to bring Jason home, but it’s not looking likely he’s going to survive the night.

Jason wrenches him away from the wall by his grip on Tim’s throat, drags Tim over to one the consoles, and shoves him to the ground. He pulls cuffs out of somewhere, Tim too busy gasping for air to see from where, and cuffs Tim’s hands to the base.

He straddles Tim, watching Tim heave painfully for air. “This is going to hurt, Replacement.” He pulls out a knife and Tim tries to buck Jason off in desperation, ignoring how badly his ribs scream at him for the attempt. He _already_ hurts, he doesn’t want more. He pulls frantically at the cuffs, but they hold and he can only watch as Jason slowly brings the knife down.

Jason rests it gently on Tim’s cheek, below his eye, and his cheek is so tender even the slightest pressure hurts. It’s going to hurt more, he can’t quite believe he’s about to be _tortured_ in the _Tower,_ and Jason doesn’t even _want_ anything from him.

Bruce always said his life was worth more than his identity, more than any information he had. He didn’t talk to Tim about what to do when your childhood hero is back from the dead and wants to make you pay for taking his place.

“Jason, please don’t do this.” Tim realizes he’s begging and doesn’t care. “Jason, please, I’m sorry. I thought you were dead, I thought I was helping!” His voice is rising, Jason is staring down at him without any mercy in those green eyes.

“Tim?” Jason’s voice has a tone Tim doesn’t understand, but it spikes his fear.

“Yes?” He’s trembling, he wishes Jason would just _do_ something, but mostly he wishes he was somewhere else. Safe.

“I can’t stand the sound of your voice.” Tim flinches. He glances desperately at the door, hoping Bruce or Dick, or even Starfire or Superman would come through the door. Anyone. Please.

“I’ve dreamed of this moment, you know,” Jason continues. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight, thought you’d be stronger. Since Bruce replaced me right away, with a high society kid, not a dirty, street rat, you just had to be better. But you’re not.” The words sink deep into Tim’s soul, where he knows they’re true.

He’s known he’s not good enough, known since the first day he put on the Robin costume. Really, before that. He tried to get Dick to come back and be Robin. Tim isn’t meant to be a hero.

He doesn’t think about how he’s 15, exhausted and overworked, while Jason is 20, with advanced training. All Tim feels is his failure.

Tim’s face throbs, the stab wound in his thigh burns, his body is starting to ache from the brutal beating, his ankle is screaming at him, and his ribs are agony.

He doesn’t know why Jason wouldn’t just come home, and take back his place. Tim would have given it to him, right away.

Tim closes his eyes. He knew he was going to lose the fight before it even began, but this is so much worse. A tear slips out.

“Why, Tim, are you _crying_?” There’s a malicious glee in his voice and a knife still at his eye and Tim doesn’t know how to be brave. He’s lost. He can’t fight back, Jason can do whatever he wants. Tim is sure that whatever he’s imagining, Jason is going to do worse.

More tears slip out, Tim silently sobbing, trying not to move with a knife on his face, with Jason right there, but no one is coming. Jason is going to hurt him, and hurt him more, and enjoy it, and Tim — Tim doesn’t want it.

The second Jason lifts the knife, Tim burts out, “Please, Jason, you can have whatever you want, please, just don’t —” he’s sobbing, gasping, heaving for air and every gasp burns his broken and cracked ribs. He turns his head to the side, away from Jason, as though that can stop him, as though that will make a difference.

Jason climbs off Tim, to sit next to him, and runs his fingers through Tim’s hair in a sick parody of affection saying, “Shh, Tim, it’s going to be okay.” His voice is gentle,Tim knows it’s a lie, but there’s a desperate swell of hope inside him. Maybe Jason realized he could have what he wanted without hurting Tim. Maybe Tim somehow reminded Jason of being Robin himself, and Jason is going to save Tim and —

A sizzle sounds and electricity runs through Tim’s body, all his muscles tightening, his ankle and thigh a remote pain to the agony flaring from his ribs.

The electricity stops and Tim goes limp, gasping for air, trying to convince his body the pain is manageable. Every breath is torture.

Jason buries his fingers in Tim’s hair again, tightening them and twisting Tim’s head, until Tim is looking at Jason. He smiles at Tim, comfortingly, but Tim sees the menace in his eyes. 

“Tim, I’m going to take care of you.”

Tim flinches and Jason smiles wider. He lets go of Tim, and Tim only has a moment to realize what that means before Jason shocks him again, and again. His body seizes from the electricity, forcing it to move in excruciatingly painful ways.

When it finally stops, Tim can’t think. He weakly turns his head away from Jason; if he can’t see him, maybe it won’t hurt, maybe Jason won’t offer false promises.

But this time, Jason notices his scent blocker patch. Tim hasn’t presented yet, but it’s standard for all heroes to wear a patch. Jason gently trails his fingers over the patch and Tim jerks helplessly.

“Please, Jason,” he pleads, “You’ve won, you’re so much better than me, I should have never taken your place!” He doesn’t know what to say to appease him, to make him go away, to make him stop. He’d say anything.

Jason pulls off a glove and comes back to delicately hook a fingernail under the patch. Tim doesn’t need it for secrecy, Jason knows who he is. But it feels like stripping away the last barrier Tim has between them. Tim is too undone to try to hide or manipulate his scent, Jason will know everything.

He tries to turn his head back, to protect himself, but Jason uses his other hand to casually press his head down. Tim’s cheek throbs as it’s shoved into the floor and he can’t stop crying. 

“Jason, no, please, just leave it, you can do — anything you want, please, just leave it.” He can’t even figure out why it matters, but it feels so vulnerable, so intimate. He doesn’t even take it off around the team, he wants —

Jason slowly peels it off, and Tim wishes he could disappear

\------

Scent blocker patches are so common, Jason hadn’t even thought about it until Tim turned his head away and the light caught it.

Once he saw it, he needed it gone. He needed to smell all the fear and pain. The tears and begging are a great start, but scent gives you so much _more_.

Tim’s terror at losing his patch? Jason laughed inside, because it was going to get so much worse.

But when the patch was gone, Jason was suddenly hit with the sour, distressing scent of exhausted, terrified, hurting pup.

Jason had presented as an omega late, the side effect of malnutrition. He died six month later. He hadn’t spent time around pups before he died, and there were no pups at the League compounds. 

The children of Crime Alley were good about masking their scent, so they could hide and stay safe. Jason hadn’t come in contact with any injured pups without blockers. He hadn’t thought of Robin as a pup, but of course he wasn’t even 16, he hadn’t presented yet. 

An omega, presented with a hurting child, has a certain reaction.

Jason stiffens, protective horror washing through him as he stares at the bleeding, terrified child _he_ chained to the floor. His instincts scream at him to take the pup somewhere safe, but he is the threat.

Ice slides down his spine and he backs away from Tim. The pup immediately curls into a ball, as much as he can with his hands cuffed above his head, still sobbing.

Jason stares, wide eyed, uncertain. He can’t hurt a child. _You already did_ , his mind points out. Well, he can’t hurt him any _more._

But he can’t just leave him here, his team is unconscious and no one is coming, and even if deactivated the signal blocker, who would he call? Bruce? Bruce can’t be trusted; he let Jason die and then replaced him. Dick was awful to Jason, and although he’s supposed to be better with Tim, his inner omega tells him Dick isn’t an option.

Tim needs care, and love, and— Jason should start with medical attention. He uncuffs Tim’s hands, and picks up the pup. Tim doesn’t fight him, his muscles limp from the electrocution, but doesn’t stop sobbing. Jason leaves his helmet and taser on the floor as they walk away.

He lays him on a bed in the medical bay, and bandages his thigh wound. Tim tries to jerk away and Jason just says, “Stop that, I’m helping you.” He knows he should be soothing, telling the kid not to worry, but the words won’t come out. He can hear the false promises he gave, intended only to wound, and doesn’t know how to make Tim believe his sincerity. He cuts open Tim’s shirt and wraps his ribs, avoiding his weak flails. He gives Tim some painkillers, to try to mute his pain.

He knows the ankle needs more medical attention than he can realistically offer, but he splints it the best he can. He can’t take Tim anywhere if there’s a risk someone might try to take him. He made this mess, and he’s going to fix it.

He’s heard about omegas fixating on pups, but never thought he’d experience it. Tim has slowed down his crying, but he won’t look at Jason. Jason’t doesn’t want to know what Tim might be thinking about the sudden medical care. He’s sure it’s not good, judging by the unabated scent of fear and pain. 

He doesn’t want to stay in the Tower; it’s not safe here. He might have been the one to breach it today, but that just proves it’s vulnerable.

He’ll need to take Tim to a safehouse. Luckily, Jason set up one in the city. He snags a sedative, just in case, and picks Tim up. The pup still isn’t fighting him, which is useful but worrying.

Jason has to say something. “Hey, Tim, c’mon, look at me.” His voice is soft, but Tim won’t open his eyes. “Tim, I’m — I’m sorry.” No sign that Tim has heard him. “I’m going to take care of you now, ok? You’re going to be safe. I’m going to take you somewhere safe. I promise I’m done hurting you.” The words feel like ash in his mouth.

Tim doesn’t react, until they reach a tunnel exit from the Tower. At the realization that they are, in fact, truly leaving, he thrashes in Jason’s arms.

“Tim, wait, stop, I can’t put you down on your ankle — Tim, damn it, calm down, I’m not going to _hurt_ you, but you’re going to hurt yourself!” Tim won’t stop, won’t be contained, his ribs must be agony, Jason is worried about his thigh wound, and in desperation he pulls out the sedative. It should keep Tim down for about an hour.

\---

When Tim wakes up, he’s groggy for a moment. Then the pain kicks in and he sees Jason and he goes absolutely feral.

He can’t be with Jason, he won’t take any more torment, he’d rather die. He’s going to force an end, one way or the other.

—-

Jason was close by, trying not to crowd Tim, for all the good it did.

Tim was screaming, his scent angry and terrified and determined, and Jason’s heart broke even as he pinned Tim down. He can’t let him hurt himself by struggling, but Jason is starting to panic because Tim doesn’t even seem to hear him.

“Tim, just take a deep breath and I’ll get off you, ok? You have a broken ankle and several broken ribs. You’re hurting yourself. Tim, _please_.”

Tim yanks a hand free and actually claws at Jason. He quickly leans back, but Tim’s swipe caught the edge of his blocker patch and pulled it loose. As he repins Tim’s hand, the scent of worried and protective omega floats out into the room.

Tim freezes for a moment, breathing deeply. Jason’s presentation hadn’t been formally announced before he died, and it’s not likely they talked about it after. Tim’s body relaxes, sinking into the bed, and Jason is relieved. Then a switch flips and Tim starts to fight him, more wildly than ever.

Jason’s officially panicking now, his scent broadcasting it. Tim doesn’t trust him, with good reason, but Jason needs him to be safe. Even if he cuffs Tim to the bed, an idea that makes him sick, the pup will still struggle and hurt himself. 

He doesn’t want to call in anyone, doesn’t want to have to reveal and explain himself, but he doesn’t know how to calm a pup terrified beyond reason. He did this, he hurt Tim, he was planning to do so much worse. He was angry at Bruce and he took it out on a _child_. At least Bruce didn’t get Jason killed on purpose _._ Jason can’t undo what he did and he can’t even seem to fix it without hurting Tim more.

Then a memory pops into his head. His mom, before the heroin, nursed him whenever he was scared or worried. 

Omegas produce milk to calm pups, and strengthen pack bonds. Jason doesn’t have any pack bonds, but he does have a terrified pup. Even adults can take comfort nursing from their pack omega, and he’d heard that other cities had omegas available to nurse traumatized pups orphaned or separated from their parents. Nothing Gotham would do, but Jason moves both of Tim’s wrists to one hand.

He won’t be able to hold him one handed for long, but it’s the work of a moment to grab the dagger from his boot and slit his shirt up the side. Ready to nurse, his body emits a sweet, milky smell. Tim’s struggles stop again. Before he can overthink it, Jason guides his head to his chest, where the smell is strongest, where the milk is starting to drip out.

Tim hesitates for just a moment, before latching on. The deep suckling is like no feeling Jason has ever had, but the relaxation that comes over Tim is even better. Jason gently, slowly rolls off Tim, making sure he stays latched.

They lay there on the bed, Jason trying to ignore the pack bonds slowly forming in his mind. If he’d had a pack, he might not bond so quickly, but his packless state leaves him no defenses. Tim’s bond is the brightest, but Dick, Bruce, and Alfred aren’t far behind. He hates and fears what that means, but the pup is _finally_ not afraid, finally relaxed, finally smells content. Jason would ensure a lot worse than the pain of snapping packbonds later. 

He hears a noise, and looks up to see Batman frozen in the doorway.

Jason wants to tell him it’s not what it looks like, but he’s not sure what it _does_ look like, and he can’t seem to make his mouth open.

Tim looks up and slurs, “Bruce, did y’know Jason’s a ‘mega?” before latching right back on. Milk drunk, they call it. He pops his head back up and says, “You need to try this.” Jason flinches and Tim awkwardly pats his face. “Shhh Jason, it’s Batman, he’s not gonna hurt you.”

Jason stares at Bruce with wide eyes as Tim continues to nurse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have a vague idea of a second chapter, with Jason promising to break the pack bonds before Bruce sends him to Arkham and Bruce's horror at both ideas.
> 
> Also, please let me know if you see a typo or missing word!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason expects to be arrested. Bruce has other ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ise and Envy said to post this right away, so blame/thank them? Normally I like to sit with things for a few days.

Bruce always keeps an eye on the pack bonds; he never blocks them off. He’s aware there are times that it can be useful to shut off your awareness. Dick is doing so, deep in a mission. But Bruce has never been able to shake the feeling that if he’s not aware of his sons, at all times, he’s going to lose another one. Tim’s bond is always faint, shielded, a product of Janet and Jack’s neglect. 

So when terror spikes through Tim’s bond, Bruce trips in an alleyway. He has Oracle immediately try to raise the Tower, as he races back to the Cave. The terror cuts off almost as soon as Bruce feels it, the bond going quiet, indicating Tim is unconscious. Bruce alerts the JLA and Superman flies over immediately. The Titans are all unconscious, unharmed, but Tim is missing. 

There are signs of a fight in the Command Center: bullet casings, blood, a taser, a red helmet. Someone has used the medbay. 

Bruce calls up Tim’s suit trackers as the plane approaches. Tim is out in the city. As he approaches, Tim’s terror comes back to life. Then his terror flickers, and changes to contentment so quickly Bruce fears drugs were involved. He didn’t even reshield his bond, and shielding is automatic for Tim. Not shielding but still content? Tim is compromised, somehow.

As Tim’s contentment stays steady, a new light flickers in the back of Bruce’s mind and he jerks the plane’s wheel. He immediately pulls it back, narrowly avoiding a collision.

That’s — That’s Jason’s bond, slowly strengthening in the back of his mind. But Jason is dead, the bond snapped, the body buried.

And yet. Stranger things have happened. He lands the plane at the Tower, heading directly out to the city.

As soon as Tim is safe, he is going to devote every resource to figuring this out.

Jason’s bond was fully unshielded for the moment, and Bruce felt his contentment, satisfaction, and hope. He never expected to see Jason, _nursing Tim._ And then Jason’s terror spikes along the pack bond.

\---

Batman takes a step forward and Jason flinches. “B, can you just stay back? Let me — just let me get him to sleep?” He’s asking, but he doesn’t know how he’ll react if Bruce comes closer. He’s nursing an injured pup and feels intensely protective.

The pack bonds are flaring brightly in his head, instincts telling him this is his pack alpha. He might be an alpha, Jason snarls internally, but he’s not _my_ alpha.

He shuts down that line of thought before his scent gets too angry and upsets Tim. Tim is relaxed, getting heavier, sleepier. He pulls off to look up at Jason and sleepily says, “I wish my mom had nursed me.” Jason stares down at him. Did he just say…?

He glances at Batman for some kind of answer, and sees that Bruce has removed his cowl. He’s staring at Jason with lost eyes, and doesn’t seem to have heard Tim.

Wait, aren’t Tim’s parents still alive? But he’s bonded to Bruce, Dick, and Alfred.

“B,” Jason says pleasantly, running his hands gently through Tim’s hair, “Why did Tim’s mom never nurse him?”

Bruce blinks and his eyes come back into focus. “Janet and Jack Drake aren’t around much. He’s been raised by nannies and babysitters his whole life. From what I can tell, she left a few weeks after he was born, and has been home only two or three months a year since then.”

Jason focuses on the feel of Tim’s hair sliding through his fingers, inhales the smell of a contented pup, and says, “You’ve adopted him, right?”

It’s Bruce’s turn to flinch and he says, “No.” Jason stares at him, controlling his scent but forgetting about his packbond, and says, “Well, he’s about to be an orphan, B, so you might want to line up that paperwork.”

Bruce glances at Tim and Jason says, “He’s asleep, don’t worry. But he’ll be better off without them.” It’s the number one Bat rule, no killing, but Jason’s not a Bat and he left that rule in the dust a long time ago.

Tim is barely hanging on to his nipple, and Jason gently slides him off and tucks him in the bed. Without Tim’s weight, without the need to comfort the pup, his actions weigh heavily on him. He’s not going to get a chance to kill the Drakes, because he isn’t going to fight Bruce when Bruce arrests him.

Bruce needs to be uninjured, whole, to take care of Tim when Jason is gone. Jason closes his eyes and looks at the packbonds burning brightly inside. He doesn’t feel the aching loneliness, the betrayal, so keenly now. The pit is quieter, muted by the pack bonds. Jason thought he’d hate having them in his head, hate having such an intimate connection, but it completes him in a way he didn’t realize was missing. It’s going to be awful, breaking them.

It’s excruciating when a packbond breaks, for both sides. Jason glances over at Tim, and back to Bruce. He quietly asks, “Can you wait to snap the packbond until Tim is healed?” Jason wants the pup to heal without additional pain. “I didn’t realize the bonds would form so quickly if I nursed him, I wasn’t — I wasn’t trying to force my way back in.”

Bruce says, “Jason, I’m not going to snap the bonds.”

“Fine,” Jason snaps, “I’ll do it, but I’m not doing it until he’s healed.”

“I mean, I don’t want the bonds snapped at all.” Bruce’s voice is almost toneless, and the lack of emotion itches at Jason.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to hang around in Arkham with a packbond with _Batman_.” Jason just won’t do it. He’s sitting up on the edge of the bed now, glaring at Bruce.

Bruce holds up his hands, as if to placate him, and says, “Why will you be in Arkham?  
  


Why will — does Bruce not realize what happened? “Bruce, _I’m_ the one who hurt the pup. If I hadn’t peeled off his patch to enjoy his pain, he’d probably be dead now.” Jason feels sick saying it.

“But are you going to hurt him now?” Bruce’s voice is still calm and level.

Jason recoils, “No! He’s a pup, I don’t hurt pups.” The exception to that rule snuffles a little in his sleep and Jason absently runs a hand up his leg, shushing him.

“Then,” Bruce says, daring to step closer, “I don’t see why you would need to be locked up.”

Jason feels a surge of green at Bruce’s willful stupidity. This is not some Hallmark movie, there isn’t a happy ending for him.

“Did you even go to the Tower, old man? Did you see the helmet? I’m the fucking Red Hood, I’ve been running the damn drug trade in Gotham, and my hands are _not_ clean.”

Without realizing it, he stands up and steps towards Bruce.

“I don’t _get_ to come home, with red on my hands, when I nearly killed your Robin. I wanted —” He realizes he’s trembling and tears are rising. What did he want?

He whispers, “I wanted no more dead Robins.” In hindsight, planning to kill the current Robin was a shit way to accomplish that goal. Jason looks for the rage that led him to testing Tim, led him to torturing a pup, and finds it blocked by the pack bonds.

Bruce steps forward and Jason should—should step back, should warn him off, should do something, but his vision is blurring and his trembling has moved into full on shaking. “B,” he whispers, wanting, but not sure what.

Bruce lays a hand on his cheek and something in Jason crumples. He _whines_ , and a tear slips down his face. Bruce immediately wraps him up in the first hug Jason’s had since he died. Bruce is safe, strong, warm, and his alpha. Bruce has always been his alpha, it’s always been about Bruce. He was angry at Bruce, and Tim paid the price.

Jason slumps into the hug, finds himself sobbing into Bruce’s chest. “B, I didn’t mean to hurt him, I mean, I did, but I was so angry, and so alone and — I’ve killed so many people, and I knew I couldn’t come home after that.” Jason remembers coming back to himself, hands red, surrounded by bodies. He bent and broke under the crushing despair when he realized he was never going home. Talia’s praises tasted like ash. She’d orchestrated it; she’d made sure he’d never get home.

“Just, don’t send me to Arkham before you break the pack bonds, please.” He’s begging through his tears. “I don’t want to be locked up with the Joker when it happens. I can stay — maybe I can stay in the Cave, or wherever you want, just, not there, not until the pack bonds are gone, _please_ , Bruce.”

Bruce is rubbing his back and soothing him, but Jason can’t hear. His pain and grief are overwhelming. His knees tremble, and Bruce brings them down onto the floor. Jason curls up awkwardly in Bruce’s lap, clinging, refusing to lift his face.

He’s made so many terrible decisions in his life, from letting Felipe Garzonas fall, trusting Sheila Haywood, letting Talia manipulate him, but nothing compares to deciding to torture a pup. He can’t come back from that. No one wants an omega in their pack who goes against their nature.

“I broke his ankle, Bruce,” Jason mutters into his chest, swallowing down the rush of nausea and shame at the memory of the snap. At the time, it had been a rush of elation. “And I hit him with his _own staff_ , and I hurt him, and I chained him down and I tried to _torture_ him and — ,” he stops, he can’t get the words out.

Bruce is still rubbing his back, not pushing him away yet. Jason doesn’t deserve it, but he can’t pull away. Just for now, he wants to pretend he deserves this, he’s loved, forgiven. Just give him a minute, a second more, please god, before he faces the rest of his life alone and hurting.

The words keep pouring out of him. “You replaced me, Dad, you replaced me and I know I fucked up, I know I was just a kid from the streets, and Tim is better, he’d never attack a pup, he’d never—”

Bruce wraps Jason up in his arms, and just holds him while Jason cracks, the fault running so deep he doesn’t think it will ever be fixed.

\---

Now Bruce has his dead pup, alive, sobbing in his arms, bleeding out the poison that’s kept him away for too long. Bruce is overwhelmed with Jason’s regret and pain and grief.

Jason is _never_ getting sent away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcomed, feel free to point out any errors.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is back at the Manor, but it's not going very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ise is a grammar champion. Any mistakes are all mine.

Dick checks his pack bonds on the plane. After Jason, it took him a year to be able to block the bonds for a mission, and even then he’d check halfway through. Just in case. But now, he reminds himself, he’s in regular contact with the pack; he’s not going to be caught off guard. It won’t be like before when he muted them all, missed the warning signs, and Jason died. Being off-world when the pack bond snapped, unable to get answers, just feeling the anguish and loss, was the worst experience of his life.

So he doesn’t open them back up until they’re on the plane, heading back, and he slams into Jason’s bond. _Jason’s bond_.

Jason’s bond is terrified, regretful, grieving. Dick’s face must show his shock and alarm because Starfire is touching his arm, saying, “Nightwing? Nightwing, what is wrong?”

“Jason—Jason is alive.” He feels frozen.

Kid Flash and Speedy exchange a shocked glance and then Wally zooms in front of him.

“N, did you hit your head? Are you feeling woozy?”

A spark of fire cuts through the numbness. “I’m not injured, I can _feel his pack bond.”_

A hush falls over the huddled heroes. Dick digs out his phone and calls Bruce. Bruce has to know, he’s the pack Alpha. Has he found Jason? Is Jason okay? Obviously Jason’s not okay, he’s terrified and not shielding his pack bond at all, but is he safe? Dick needs him to be safe.

Bruce answers and immediately says, “Jason is alive, yes. He’s safe at the Manor.” Dick closes his eyes for a moment in relief.

“I’m coming, I’m only—” He glances at Roy, who mouths four hours. “—four hours out, I’m four hours out. I’m coming.”

“Wait.” Bruce’s voice is serious, and Dick puts the phone back up to his ear. “A lot has happened, and you should know. Jason was with the League of Shadows. They put him into a Lazarus Pit.”

Dick swears and says, “Fucking Talia.” Ra’s at least makes no pretense about his true nature.

“And Tim has been injured.” Dick frantically checks, but Tim’s bond is still muted. “Someone broke into the Tower, incapaciated the Titans, and tortured Tim.” Someone tortured his little brother.

“Is Tim okay? Did any of the other Titans get injured?” His team stiffens around him.

“Tim has no life threatening injuries. None of the other Titans were injured.”

“Who broke into the Tower?”

Roy swears under his breath and Kori shifts anxiously.

“It was the Red Hood.”

Red Hood? From Gotham? Why would he go across the country to target Robin?

“Dick,” Bruce’s voice is strained, “Jason is the Red Hood.”

Dick looks unseeing out the front of the plane. Jason’s been alive, for a while. He’s been with the League of Shadows. He’s killed people. He runs the drug trade in Gotham. He—his brain shies away from it but he’s not Nightwing because he can’t look a hard truth in the face. Jason tortured Tim. Jason tortured Tim.

Dick’s voice is hoarse when he says, “How did Tim escape?”

“Jason.” Bruce clears his throat. “Jason ripped off Tim’s blocker patch, and when he smelled that Tim is a pup, apparently his omega instincts made him protective. He took Tim away to a safe place and nursed him. That’s how the pack bond reformed.”

Dick can’t say anything.

“Dick, just be aware, Jason seems to be planning on snapping the pack bonds. He says he’s going to wait until Tim is healed, but…” Bruce trails off.

Snap the pack bonds? On purpose? After they just got him back? Dick’s a mess of swirling emotions, and Kori touches him again saying, “Nightwing? Are you all right?”

No, Dick is not all right. He might never be all right again. His brother is back from the dead, killing people, torturing others. And apparently nursing his youngest brother.

He says, “I’ll be there in four hours,” and hangs up on Bruce. He has to say something to his team clustered around him, anxious and worried. “Jason is alive, and safe. Someone broke into the Tower, incapacitated the Titans, and injured Robin.” He can’t make himself say tortured. “Robin is recovering, no one else is injured.” His voice sounds flat; he’s forcing his emotions down to give the report. “Excuse me.” He walks to the back of the plane, hoping none of them follow him. It’s going to be a long plane ride.

\---

It was a long plane ride, made longer by the concern of his team. He couldn’t tell them Red Hood was Jason, that Jason tortured Robin and then nursed him. Dick couldn’t even really accept that it had happened. Eventually, the team got the message and left him alone. When they landed, Wally gave him a ride to the Manor and Dick was thankful he didn’t try to stick around.

He rushes up the steps as Bruce opens the door and says, “I need to see Jason.” He’s been checking and rechecking the pack bond the entire flight, worried it will disappear, worried this is all a dream. He needs to see Jason, to touch him, to believe it’s real.

Bruce looks at him, still in his dust-covered Nightwing costume, and leans forward to pull off his blocker patch. Dick lifted his hand to his neck, feeling exposed. “He’ll see you as a threat in costume and with a blocker.” Dick swallows and nods. He can’t find any words.

Bruce must understand, because he leads Dick to a normally unused bedroom. Dick can smell an omega in misery wafting from the door and his alpha instincts make him itch. He wants to protect, to soothe, to fix the problem.

Bruce knocks. “Jason? Dick is here to see you.”

Jason opens the door and Dick just stares. It’s definitely Jason, but older. Taller, broader, with a streak of white hair. The vivid green eyes are a shock, but the feelings underneath the green hurt Dick’s heart. Jason’s not shielding his bond, or hiding his scent, and the terror and grief and regret are impossible to miss.

Dick steps forward and folds him in a hug. Jason is stiff, but Dick doesn’t care. He murmurs, “Jason,” into his hair, and realizes he’s starting to cry.

Jason steps back, abruptly disentangling himself and says, “There, you’ve seen me.” He turns to Bruce. “Can you lock me up now?”

“Lock you up—” Dick starts to say, wiping his eyes, and Jason snaps, “I tortured a pup, the pit makes me unstable, and I’m lethal. It’s not safe for me to be playing happy families.” Ice runs down Dick’s spine.

He glances at Bruce, but his face is a neutral mask, his scent locked down. Dick says, “Jason, we’re not playing at anything. You—you’re alive, you’re home.”

Jason scoffs and says, “You never liked me all that much the first time, Dick, and I can fucking guarantee you’re not going to like me any better this time.” He’s not meeting Dick’s eyes.

His tone and body language are furious, but scent is broadcasting hurt and fear. His pack bond is the same. The anger is a front he’s putting on to hide himself.

Jason always hid his feelings behind other feelings, and anger made a great mask. Pick a fight, and no one looks deeper. It worked on Dick, and only after Jason died did Dick realize his anger masked insecurities deep enough that he ran away to Ethiopia.

Dick leans against the door and smiles at Jason, trying to smell like safety and calm instead of frantic desperation, and says, “Your anger used to keep me away, little brother, but it’s not very effective when you aren’t shielding. I can feel that you’re not angry.”

Jason meets Dick’s eyes in shock, then takes a step back and slams the door in their faces.

“Well,” Bruce remarks, “you may have lost us our best insight into his feelings.”

Dick winces, but the pack bond with Jason is, indeed, fully shielded now.

\---

Tim is trying not to think about Jason being a few doors down the hall. He knows Bruce isn’t far, he can feel that Jason isn’t angry, but Tim is still terrified. He doesn’t know why Jason suddenly treated his wounds and then nursed him. Bruce said his pup scent triggered Jason’s omega instincts, but Tim doesn’t believe that. He remembers how Jason was kind just to be cruel, and knows Jason was just drawing it out. He probably got so caught up in being excited to torture him that he forgot about the trackers.

Tim is carefully not thinking about how it felt being nursed for the first time in his life. He’s sure Jason did it to try to lull him into a false sense of security and that it didn’t mean anything. He saw the green eyes. He knows what a Lazarus Pit does to you, so he knows Jason is unstable.

A sense of terror flooded into him when Jason shielded the pack bond, but Jason didn’t come storming in to finish it, so he’s mostly composed when Dick sticks his head in the room.

It’s clear Dick is like Bruce and doesn’t think Jason is unstable. Hope and concern are warring in his pack bond, and Tim doesn’t think he can disillusion them. He definitely can’t open his bond to let them see his deep seated terror. You can manipulate a scent; you can’t fake a bond emotion.

So he puts on a smile and reassures Dick that everything is fine. No, it doesn’t hurt that much. No, it wasn’t a lot of torture. Not like Tim is reliving the fear and pain every time he closes his eyes, not that he’s avoiding sleeping. No, Dick, everything is fine, you have two brothers now, it’s a miracle.

Tim shoos him out of the room to go change, “Before Alfred sees you in costume in the Manor, Dick!” Before Tim can’t hide his feelings from him any longer.

Tim stares up at the ceiling, carefully not thinking, pretending his eyes aren’t stinging.

—-

A week passes, and Jason is still in the Manor. Tim knows it’s not going very well, because Dick shows up every day with red eyes, reeking of stressed Alpha. Bruce hides it better, but Tim has spent enough time studying Bruce to see right through him.

Alfred seems to be the only one unaffected. His calm and gentle presence soothes Tim, but for all the peace he creates Tim is still uneasy, unhappy. Tim never feels fully safe.

Tim and Dick both try to ignore the elephant in the room at first, but finally Tim says, “What’s wrong with Jason?” Dick’s scent shifts to guilt, and Tim sharply says, “Don’t lie to me. You’re miserable.”

“Timmy, we don’t need to talk about—” He cuts himself when Tim glares at him. “He doesn’t feel like he deserves to be here.”

Well, Tim thinks uncharitably, he _doesn’t_. He can’t say that to his miserable older brother. He’s not sure any words can help, so he pats the side of his bed and Dick curls gratefully up against him.

“I want him to stay, Tim. I want a chance at a better relationship with him than before. He keeps throwing it in my face that I was a terrible brother, and I know I was. I just…” Dick trails off and Tim presses close to comfort him. “I don’t want him to break the pack bonds and run away or try to get himself committed to Arkham.” Tim’s scent spikes in surprise before he can stop it, and Dick says, “Yeah, I know. He thinks he’s ‘unstable’ and ‘volatile’ and ‘dangerous.’”

Tim carefully doesn’t say or scent anything but concern because Dick sounds and smells near tears. Tim has never seen him this unhappy before and wishes Jason had never come back. Dick was fine, before Jason showed up completely crazy. Everything was fine.

And now he’s living in the same house with his torturer, who is putting Bruce and Dick through hell. In his more bitter moments, Tim wonders if Jason’s doing this deliberately. If Jason’s come here to torture all three of them emotionally, instead of physically.

He tries not to remember the raw terror and regret of the bond before Jason shielded it.

—-

Jason has taken to wandering the Manor at night when he doesn’t think he’ll run into anyone. They almost certainly know; he’s not wearing a scent blocker, but no one mentions it. He just can’t stay cooped up in his room, and he’s not ready to admit he can be a part of the family again.

He’s wracked with agony over what he’s done and still doesn’t quite believe he’s not going to be thrown out of the pack as soon as Tim has finished healing. Every night he thinks about slipping away and snapping the pack bond himself, but he can’t hurt Tim again. He’s not even sure, once Tim is healed, if he’ll be able to do it. He can’t hurt a pup again. But if he doesn’t do it, Bruce will, and he’s not sure he can handle the anticipation. Better to do it himself. If he can.

The guilt and fear eat away at him. Ashamed, Jason tries to bury them with the pit, but every time the pit tries to come forward, a pack bond blocks it. Jason doesn’t understand how that works and doesn’t trust that it will keep working. Every day, he’s a bit more hopeful and terrified the pit might be gone.

Hopeful, because he’ll never attack a pup again. Terrified, because he’ll have to feel all the guilt and pain and regret forever.

Bruce and Dick seem to think the pit absolves him of his choices, and it’s infuriating to have his personal agency reduced to pit madness.

He shouted that at Bruce one day, furious that they tried to pretend nothing unforgivable happened. Bruce let him yell until he was done and then said, “Jason. You make your own choices. We know that. But you’ve said that the pit seems to be blocked, and you’re still here. No one is keeping you here. Why aren’t you out there, as Red Hood?”

Jason couldn’t look at him, didn’t answer, shame keeping him quiet. He didn’t want to be the Red Hood, he wanted to be home, but he doesn’t deserve to be home. Even when they kick him out, he doesn’t think he could be Hood without the pit.

“The only thing that’s changed is the pack bonds blocking the pit. The pit did influence you, and now that it’s gone, you are choosing a different path. You can be who you want to be.”

Jason was silent, and, after a few moments, Bruce left. Bruce is good about giving Jason his space and not pushing him. He’s always been a good pack alpha.

Tim is the only thing Jason regrets. He may not be willing to kill those who need killing anymore, but he doesn’t regret having done it. He only regrets Tim, and he only went after Tim to hurt Bruce, because Bruce had hurt him. It’s not an excuse, Jason knows that, but he’s trying to see it the way Bruce and Dick see it.

Alfred’s quiet smiles and unmitigated joy at having him back go a long way to soothing Jason’s pain. He would have thought Alfred would be furious that Jason hurt Tim, but Alfred never mentions it. He brings tea, and books, and all of Jason’s favorite foods. He touches Jason on the shoulder, gently. One particularly bad morning, Jason hugged him silently, fiercely, and Alfred just held him as long as he needed.

He doesn’t think he belongs with the family, but Dick’s misery scrapes him every day, and the more time he spends with Bruce, the more he misses his dad. He wants to fling his arms around Bruce, like he did as a child, like he did at the safehouse. He wants to cry in the safety of Bruce’s arms and be forgiven. Absolution isn’t for him, though. He tells himself this, but every day it sounds a little more hollow. Jason can see they’ve already given him absolution.

So, when Jason silently walks the halls of the Manor, he has a lot on his mind. He usually stays alert to the sounds of Bruce or Dick back from patrol, or Alfred on some midnight errand. He’s not ready to see anyone outside his room, to shatter the illusion that they’re keeping him prisoner for everyone’s safety.

Tonight, though, he knows he won’t run into anyone. Alfred is gone for the weekend, visiting a sick family member. Bruce and Dick are intercepting a shipment at the docks. They had actually asked him for his input, as the former head of the local crime empire, and he’d enjoyed helping. He realized he missed doing good, even if the thought of putting on the helmet made him sick.

_You can be who you want to be._

Maybe there is a path forward for him, without the pit. Not Robin and not Red Hood. Another way he can help, something new.

He’s lost in the wonder of the thought when he hears Tim screaming. No one else is home. The pup has been staying in his room, recovering, hiding, and Jason takes off running.

He bursts through the door while Tim is still screaming. The scent of terror washes over him, and Tim looks so small and pale in the bed. 

Normally, Jason knows, you want to wake up someone from a nightmare gently. But he doesn’t think Tim wants Jason that close; Jason hasn’t even found the words to apologize yet.

“Tim!” He’s too loud, frantic. “Tim, wake up!” Tim doesn’t hear him, thrashing and still screaming. Jason winces, sure the pup is hurting himself; the ribs can’t be healed yet. “ _Tim!”_

Jason takes a step into the room and then another. He’s hesitating, but there’s no time to hesitate because there’s a pup suffering right in front of him. The scent of fear and pain is making Jason crazy; he can’t watch the pup he hurt be in more pain.

He stands right next to Tim, and puts a hand on his shoulder saying, “Hey, babybird, wake up, you’re safe.” He’s heard Dick call him that, and it slips out. It seems to work because Tim stops thrashing, his eyes snap open, and he sits up heaving for air.

When he sees Jason, terror rolls off him, sharp and sickening. He tries to shove himself back, but the headboard stops him. Jason takes a step back and holds up his hands. “It’s ok, you were having a nightmare.” Tim’s breathing is still fast, his eyes wide and fixed with fear on Jason. “I know normally Dick or Bruce come, but they’re both gone, and Alfred is gone, remember?” He’s trying to make Tim understand he’s here to help, that no one else here.

He doesn’t realize he’s making it clear that Tim is alone with his torturer, with no one to come rescue him.

\---

Tim can’t get enough air. Jason, Jason is in his room. And normally he knows his alphas are somewhere in the house, at least one of them, but Jason just reminded him that they’re absolutely alone. Even if Jason somehow lets him call them, Jason can take him away before they can get back.

He realizes he’s trembling, back pressed to the headboard, as he says, “Jason, please.” His voice is quiet and shaky, and he feels tears spring to his eyes. “Jason, please, I’m sorry, you can have Robin, I don’t want it, it’s yours, I only took it because you were dead.” The tears spill down his cheeks, but he can’t look away from Jason. He needs to know what Jason will do next.

Jason smells horrified, upset, and Tim knows it’s a lie. “Tim, no, you were having a nightmare.”

Yeah, Tim thinks, and now it’s come to life. “Jason, just, you don’t have to hurt me, please, just tell me what you want.” Jason just looks at him, sad and regretful, and Tim practically shouts, “Stop lying to me! I know you don’t regret it, you enjoyed it, and you’re here for more! You’ve made it clear no one is here to stop you, and I can’t—” his voice breaks in fear, because he’s truly helpless. His stomach twists, the tears won’t stop coming, he’s shaking, and he quietly says, “I can’t stop you. We both know it. Please, Jason, please, just—don’t draw it out, don’t lie to me.”

He’s remembering Jason’s gentle hand on his hair, before the seizing agony of electrocution. Jason’s deft hands patching him up in the medbay, before taking him where no one could find him. Jason using his scent to try to manipulate Tim, and Tim couldn’t resist the milk, he’d never nursed, but he just—he buries his face in his hands, unable to look any longer. His voice is muffled when he says, “I know Bruce thinks you brought me out of the Tower to protect me, but we both know you just wanted to draw it out. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Jason is unmoving, silent, and Tim just cries harder. He’s crying so hard he can’t smell anything anymore, but he finds he’s grateful to not be lied to that way. He thinks maybe he should go for his phone, try to run, but Jason already broke his ankle, and he already knows how the fight will end.

“Tim.” Jason’s voice is quiet, gentle, and Tim sobs desperately. He can handle the pain, but not the psychological torment. Of course, that’s why Jason will pick it. “Tim, I’m not going to hurt you.” Jason’s voice sounds sincere, but Tim knows it’s a lie.

“Tim, please,” Jason’s voice sounds pleading. “Will you look at me?” Tim can’t make himself look up, and dread curls in his stomach when he hears Jason move forward.

“No, wait,” he drops his hands, “I’ll look at you, just—” but it’s too late, Jason is right there, and he’s going to grab Tim and take him away and it will hurt. But Jason sits next to him on the bed and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

Tim trembles uncontrollably. He knows how strong Jason is, and now he’s right here and—he tries not to think, tries to go away, but Jason is talking.

“Tim, please, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry I attacked you, I’m sorry I hurt you. I wasn’t—” he stops, hesitant. “I really wasn’t taking you out of the Tower to hurt you. Your pup scent, it overwhelmed the pit in my head, and I fixated on you and wanted you to be safe.” Tim is listening, but he can’t believe it.

For all that Tim is 15, for all his Robin training, all his experience on the streets, he’s still a pup. An abandoned, traumatized pup. Oh, he had his parents, but they never gave him what he needed. He’s still not sure if they’ve noticed his pack bond is gone, and it’s been a year. He’s deeply vulnerable to an omega’s comfort, and he knows it, but he can’t fully stop it.

Jason’s body is warm next to his. With the scent of an omega in his nose, a gentle voice in his ears, and warmth pressed up against him Tim finds himself relaxing against his better judgement. If he’s going to be tortured, he might as well take comfort where he can, right? And maybe if he pretends to believe Jason, they can skip ahead to the physical pain.

He lets himself slump against Jason. “Tim?” Tim won’t say anything, he won’t break the spell. He turns his head into Jason’s chest. If he surrounds himself enough with the smell and warmth of a comforting omega, maybe he can feel safe.

Jason doesn’t say anything, and they sit in silence for a moment. Tim drifts, and then there’s a milky, sweet smell. He wants, for a moment, and then he stiffens and jerks back, out of the warm and comfortable hold.

He’s trembling again and he says, “Jason, please, just stop.”

Jason says, “I thought—” but Tim cuts him off.

“Don’t lie to me. I can’t—I can take whatever you want to do to me, just don’t lie. Don’t pretend to be something you’re not.” Jason flinches and Tim forces himself to say, “I know better. Scents lie. Words lie.” Better that Jason knows he knows the truth.

Jason flinches again. There’s a pause and then he says, “But pack bonds don’t lie.”

Before Tim can process what he’s saying, Jason’s bond is unshielded, vibrant. His pain and regret are clear, with no malicious undercurrent, no desire for pain or revenge, no sense of victory at finally getting Tim again. He’d wanted to believe Jason’s earlier regret was only at getting caught, and Jason was terrified because of what Bruce was going to do to him. But right now, Jason could take Tim and disappear, and Bruce and Dick wouldn’t find him until it’s too late. He doesn’t need to be regretful when he’s won.

Yet, instead of malicious joy, the bond radiates a cautious hope that’s almost painful to feel. Tim looks up into Jason’s face, awed, and says, “You mean it. You really mean it.”

“I do mean it, Tim. I thought—it’s not an excuse but the pit made me crazy. And I was furious that Bruce replaced me with you, even though I was dead, and he hadn’t avenged me, so the Joker was still alive, and he was going to get another kid killed, and it got tangled and twisted. I needed to see if you were good enough to stay safe, but then the pit made me think it was to see if you were good enough to replace me, and then it wanted to hurt you so I didn’t hurt anymore.” The words are tumbling out, almost faster than Tim can follow, and now Jason is one who is shaking, who looks afraid.

“When I realized you were a pup, and I’d hurt a pup,” his voice breaks, “I had to fix it, but you didn’t believe me, and why _would_ you, I’d been so cruel, and you were making all your injuries worse by fighting, but then when I nursed you, the pack bonds came back.” His voice is shaking, “And I don’t deserve them, I swear I’ll break them once you’re healed. I know I hurt you, but I won’t again, and I know you won’t believe it, but I’ll break them and I’ll go, and it’ll be like I was never here.” Tim can feel his desperation to be believed through the pack bond, his raw sincerity, his feeling of not ever being good enough.

“I wasn’t trying to trick you by nursing you, I wasn’t.” He’s almost pleading now, begging Tim to understand.

Tim finds he does understand. Pack bonds don’t lie. He reaches out a hand to touch Jason, driven by an instinctive need to comfort the suffering laid bare in front of him, and says, “Jason, it’s all right. I believe you.”

Jason is still shaking, though, hands clenched tightly in his lap. Tim realizes the truth he said earlier, that words and scent can lie. So he opens up his pack bond, letting Jason feel his understanding and forgiveness. He wants Jason to know it’s real. He ignores the shock and concern radiating from Bruce, Dick, and Alfred, pushes them all back to focus on Jason.

Jason went rigid when Tim opened his bond, but then he slowly raises his head to look at Tim. His tone is awed as he says, “You do believe me.”

“Jason,” Tim says, “please don’t break the pack bonds. You do deserve to be here; Bruce and Dick and Alfred are overjoyed that you’re home.” He’s finding the truth as he says it, almost surprised. “And I want you to stay.” 

He had always admired Jason as Robin, thinking he was incredibly brave and kind. He’d thought that version of Jason was gone, buried by the League, hidden under the pit, killed by the Joker.

But he sees it, now. He sees that the pack bonds are protecting Jason, and Jason is not a monster. He tentatively leans back against Jason, hoping it’s not the wrong choice, but Jason fiercely wraps his arms around him, burying his face in Tim’s hair, and says, “Thank you.”

They stay there for a moment, and then the sweet milky scent drifts out again.

Jason says, “Shit, sorry, my body—it’s the stupid omega instincts, it can still smell a hurting pup, and it knows I want to comfort you, and it thinks this is the best way.”

Tim doesn’t actually mind. When he’s not having screaming nightmares about what Red Hood did to him, he’s waking up with silent tears on his face from dreams about the intimacy and safety of being nursed. He hesitantly says, “I would think I’m too old to be nursed,” as though Jason hadn’t nursed him less than a month ago.

“Well, babybird, you’re not presented yet, so you’re still a pup to me.”

Tim thinks about that and quietly says, “I wouldn’t mind. It felt—” He’s embarrassed, his pack bond showing that, but everyone can feel his embarrassment, so there’s no point in hiding. “My mom never nursed me and I didn’t know it could feel so good,” he finishes in a rush, blushing.

\---

Jason refuses to let himself be embarrassed about his body. If he wants to nurse a pup, his body produces milk, and that’s normal. He just doesn’t want Tim to feel as though Jason is manipulating him or doing it on purpose.

So when Tim says he doesn’t mind, flushing with embarrassment felt through the pack bond, Jason doesn’t hesitate. He lets go of Tim and strips off his simple sleep shirt. He slides down on the bed, pulling Tim down with him.

The pup’s eyes are wide, almost shocked, but the want and desperation drifting through the pack bond don’t lie. He says, “Jason,” and his voice is so unsure that Jason’s heart hurts for him. A pup should always know his welcome, should never doubt that he’s loved and being kept safe.

Jason tugs him the rest of the way down on the bed, mindful of Tim’s injuries and says, “It feels good for me, too, pup.”

He guides Tim’s unresisting head, and Tim latches on with the desperation Jason remembers. He pets Tim’s head fondly, looking down at him. The contentment that immediately blooms in the pack bond is infectious, and Jason lets the bliss spread through him. Tim may have never been nursed before Jason, but Jason had also never nursed before him. They had both been missing out.

\---

Dick embodies grace as he flies through Gotham. He never stumbles, never misses a grapple point. But when Jason opens up his pack bond, full regret and and hope, Dick actually misses a landing. He tumbles down onto the roof on his knees, catching himself on his hands. He looks up at Batman, eyes wide. Without speaking, they both turn to look back at the Manor. What is happening back there? Alfred is gone; it’s just Jason and Tim.

Dick vaults upright and they swing out, back to the Batmobile. They’re nearly there when Tim’s bond opens, and this time it’s Batman who stumbles. Tim’s full of forgiveness, understanding, and Dick dares to hope Jason might finally be talking to Tim.

They’re tumbling out of the Batmobile when Tim’s bond flushes with embarrassment, and then turns blissfully content. Jason’s bond mirrors that contentment and Bruce says quietly, “He’s nursing him again.” 

A nursing omega in the Manor. Dick is grateful Alfred isn’t there to scold him, because he’s not changing out of Nightwing, he’s ripping off his scent blockers, he’s running through the Manor, past Jason’s empty room, into Tim’s room.

He skips to a stop at the sight of his brothers curled up on Tim’s bed. Jason is running his hand through Tim’s hair, looking down with something like awe, and Tim doesn’t even seem to notice Dick is there.

Bruce is a little behind Dick and Jason looks up with something like fear in his eyes, a curl of terror marring his pack bond, and he pleads, “Please, Dad, please don’t break the pack bonds. I want to stay.”

Dick and Bruce stare at him, speechless, and he quietly says, “You said I can be who I want to be, and I want to help, but not as Red Hood and not as Robin. I still want to help people.”

Bruce brushes past Dick, putting his hand on Jason’s hair, saying, “Jason, son, no one is making you leave. No one wants you to go. You can stay and do whatever you want.”

Bruce radiates protective, loving alpha as he stands by the bed. Jason leans his head onto Bruce’s hip, the terror gone from his bond.

“Thank you.”

Dick has never been more grateful that the Manor has such large beds, because there’s enough room for him to crawl up next to Jason and Tim. He opens up his own pack bond, letting his love and joy shine out. Bruce opens up his, and no one is hiding anymore. They are together, as a family is meant to be, no secrets, all forgiven.

Dick wants one last thing, and has wanted it ever since he learned how Bruce found Jason. His uncertainty starts to bleed through and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

He forces himself to ask, “Little Wing?” Jason’s been so angry when called him that, but Dick knows everything is different now. “Can I—can I nurse, too?”

He’s shocked to find tears rising, but he’s desperate, Jason is alive, and even now he still can’t quite believe it. He’s been worrying about Jason snapping the pack bonds, about Tim’s trauma, and about Bruce’s quiet concern; he hasn’t actually relaxed since he found Jason’s pack bond in his mind.

Jason’s contentment doesn’t flicker and he says, “Sure, Dickie, there’s plenty.”

And Dick was nursed, as a child. Not since his parents died, not since he came to the Manor, but he’s not like Tim, he wasn’t traumatized by neglect. But he remembers waking up, crying, and no one there to nurse him. He remembers wanting, so badly it hurt, and no one was there. Bruce loved him, but an alpha isn’t the same. He wanted an omega’s comfort.

So, his scent swells with joy, he would swear his pack bond is glowing with it, and he latches on. Finally, Jason is home with them. Finally, all will be well. Finally, they’re a family again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I'm all done with this story.
> 
> As always, comments are welcome and feel free to point out any errors.


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